Disclaimer: Alas, I do not own Harry Potter, nor the characters. Nor the settings... nor anything except this account of events in which I totally just made up!
Description: The plot takes place in midst of OotP. Though it is mainly concerned with Sirius Black, it contains other characters as well.
Detail: Sirius battles his inner demons and his past that continues to haunt him while staying at Number 12 Grimmuald Place. The story concerns a struggling friendship and decisions that have their consequences.
Bringing Me Back
Chapter 1: Veiled Memories
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They did not understand. There were only so many things a person could fully understand, and they simply could not ever understand.
Many would say that this statement was indeed a rash generalization, but no. All of them: London and anyone who had ever heard of the infamous name of Sirius Black, AKA crazed psychopathic mass murder, did not understand. It was as Sirius put it in his own words, 'It was on the basis of what they thought they knew that caused them to not understand at all.'
This was of course the best way to put it.
The once Azkaban prisoner was used to all of it now. It had become an act of normalcy to see his picture in the Daily Prophet and a particularly pleasingly amount of money as a reward to the side of it. He had grown disinterested to the thought of how people would react if they caught a glimpse of the demented maniac. Scared or deathly frightened, the reaction was always the same. Every piece of news that he had heard about himself had become all very cliché, old, and lined with boredom to the bone.
All of this the man had concluded four days ago when he had been abandoned by his so-called friends. It was last Friday in which the entire Order had left to busy themselves with important matters; this would not have been such a touchy event if they had not left him behind. Left him behind in the dusty mess that would never be clean. Sirius had unintentionally said this out loud one time when he had been cleaning out storage bins in an old guest bedroom, Molly who had been close to him in the room had heard the comment and reminded Sirius that within time and through much effort the place would be spick and span.
But the cobwebs and dusty floors had not been what Sirius meant.
There was more, so much more, and every little bit of him wanted to scream what he meant, tell everyone how he felt, about the helplessness he felt when he was around the rest of the Order, down to the reasons why he hated being restricted to staying in the house. There would be no need to explain what he had truly meant, however, Molly along with the entire Order did not and would not ever understand.
It was true, how the Order came and went, and to Sirius's attention, more went than came. The fact that he was mostly always left by himself had been altogether too much. Sirius had practically pleaded with the Order's secret keeper Albus Dumbledore to get permission to leave the house, any mission at all would do. Suicidal you say? Sure, why not. Requiring one to dress up as a fragile muggle old lady? No problem, I'll need a minute to get ready.
Indeed the man was talking about the extremes. As a matter of fact, the man was convinced that he'd even take Dumbledore up on an offer requiring him be civil with Severus Snape for a day, as long as it meant he would be leaving the house. Yes, these were extreme measures. But of course, these were extreme times.
The Order came and went... but Sirius never left.
The man let out a sigh as he cleaned an already spotless water glass. He did not feel like leaving the kitchen to do other housework, or even just leaving the kitchen for that matter.
'Why the leave the kitchen,' Sirius thought, 'you'll still be in the same house.'
The man grunted as he roughly set the sparkling glass upside down to the side of the sink and turned around to lean lazily with his back to the counter.
He wished desperately that the day would just end right now.
'Why though?' A voice in the back of Sirius's head taunted, 'tomorrow's just going to be like today. Boring. Extremely, excruciatingly, b-o-r-i-n-g.'
Something in the pit of Sirius's stomach told him that the voice was right. The Order was not due back to headquarters for at least two days from now. Tomorrow would unfortunately be like today.
As the man groaned at the very thought of having to endure two more days of immense monotony, a brilliant idea swept through his head.
Of course it was an idea that could have occurred to him at any particular moment, it was purely obvious and simple. It was an idea that lacked the need for preparation and planning.
He was alone, all by himself at Grimmauld Place. He was at the Order's headquarters, empty of all the Order. It was a lucky coincidence... for him by all means.
Realization hit like a slap to the face; the fact that he was very much alone seemed to appear so sudden. No one could see him, observe him, nor stop him. Sirius was free to do what he wanted to do.
And one thing he very much wanted to do was to leave the house.
"Don't think about it Sirius," the man muttered to himself, "it's strictly against what Dumbledore's been telling you-"
"Master's lost his mind to Azkaban, talking and talking to himself when he's alone. No one listens to Master anyways."
Sirius had been so deeply concerned with his thoughts that he had failed to hear the house elf, Kreacher enter the kitchen.
"What is it Kreacher?" Sirius grunted.
The constant days of dullness and nothing to do had made Sirius restless and even more impatient with the house elf than that of usual.
"Kreacher is here to serve Master- and to make sure the filthy blood traitor doesn't spoil anymore of Mistress's house- the filth, the scum-"
Before Kreacher could actually finish his ranting, Sirius had half- dragged, half-carried Kreacher toward the kitchen door.
"Save it you insolent piece of-"
"Oh, Master is sooo lonely- why he listens to that old fool- scrounging around, the filth, the bad-"
"DON'T YOU DARE SPEAK OF DUMBLEDORE THAT WAY YOU RAT!" Sirius raged as he gave Kreacher a swift and final kick out, slamming the door closed after him.
Sirius walked despairingly over to the large kitchen table and plopped himself into a chair, putting his head into his hands, half bent and half resting onto the table.
Sirius's head was filled with so many thoughts it was becoming hard to concentrate on one. There was one particular thought that stuck out more than the others, however.
For some odd reason Kreacher's final words continued to move across his mind in a bolded and an impossible to ignore manner. 'Why he listens to that old fool.'
Kreacher had meant Dumbledore.
Why did Sirius listen to Dumbledore. Why did Sirius listen to Dumbledore?
Did it really matter what Dumbledore said? What was really stopping him from leaving Grimmuald Place?
'Why did Dumbledore care?' Sirius thought.
"He cares because he's head of the Order. He's responsible for what happens in the Order and who's in it," Sirius told himself out loud, "and you're part of the Order, you git. That makes him responsible for you."
The taunting voice from the back of his mind spoke up again. 'But I thought they left you here? Didn't they? The entire Order left you behind. Just exactly what are you? You clean dirty dishes and sweep up dust, is that really work for the Order?"
It was then that apprehension dawned upon on him. It was as if a heavy gavel was being pounded relentlessly against the bottom part of Sirius's stomach.
"I'm not part of the Order."
The stony silence that surrounded his words was enough to make him feel abandoned, more in just one way.
Author's Note: I don't plan on expanding this too long, just another chapter or so I think. Please make the author happy and review!!!